Misguided
by LostC
Summary: FF: Femmeslash: Femslash: Life progresses along. Faith doesn't. Sequel to 'Unrequited'. [FaithBuffy]
1. Morning After

**_Note:_**_ The beginning of a new era… er, chapter, I mean. **[Sequel to Unrequited]**_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I wish I owned BtVS… but alas…_

**_Dedicated To…_**

_All those wonderful people out there (online and otherwise) who kept me company during these increasingly quiet winter nights. ;) Hey, you know who you are. Thanks. (And my lovely girlfriend, Karen! *blows kiss*)_

**_Note:_**_ Constructive criticism always welcome… as well as senseless praise. Hey, a writer does have _some_ needs…_

**_LOOK HERE! ::_**_ Hey guess what? It's Akasha/Jessica's birthday today, so wish her a good one, yeah? 'Cause I'm all delayed-reaction-y with the birthday present giving and all that, and I have to do _something_. … And it's always fun to remind her of how old she's getting… *ducks flying objects*_

**Part I – "Morning After"**

The room was empty when I awoke.

Hours must've passed, and I'm still sitting motionless on my trashed bed. Looking, but not really seeing, as the sun rose and filtered in, filling the room with blinding rays of golden warmth. And I think I'm sick, because I can't feel it.

Or anything else.

But you're not here, and I don't know why I care.

I don't know why I'm a wreck. Images, like a demented picture show, flashing through my mind. You. Laughing, crying, helpless, pouting, teasing, pretending to be mad, angry, furious...

And then for the first time since I realized you were gone, I move to point my gaze down to the floor, sick of staring at the sun. Staring at the light I can't seem to feel. My eyes catch onto the shining metal lying innocently on the stained carpet.

It's the damn pistol.

All at once, last night pushes it's way into my predominating stream of consciousness... never truely forgotten. The lust. The high, assuming that I was winning. The anger. The bitterness. And the tears, mine, that poured out ruthlessly, filled with nothing but the only thing that's left inside.

Emptiness.

I can see my fingers curling around the handle of the gun now, but I can't remember bending down to pick it up. It's a pitilessly frigid block of ice in my palm.

Was it this cold inside you last night?

The metal glints in the sunlight, mocking my weakness. It laughs because you're the victor. Because you won, and I lost. Because even when I thought _I_ was winning, thought _I_ had control, I was losing the entire time, from the moment _you_ walked into the cemetary. Because I was so _naive_.

I let you blind me.

I let you. You took advantage.

My fingers wind tighter around the gun, and for a moment, I wonder how much more it would take for me to break it, with my slayer strength. I want to know... Is it as easy to crush, as I was to you?

I study it in my hand, grip loosening. This is what you let become a part of you. You let me make it a part of you, even if for the smallest moment in time.

It still reeks of _you_.

A tremor travels up my arm.

B... Buffy, how could I have ever let you in? What've you done to me? I let you destroy me. I let you reach in and make me... wrong.

And I don't... I can't... don't know how to fix it.

There's a loud slam, as the door swings open suddenly. My eyes snap to the door for the intruder, all muscles tense.

"What the _h_ - ... Red?"


	2. Red

**_Note:_**_ Short chapters, short chapters…_

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I wish I owned BtVS… but alas…_

**_Dedicated To…_**

_All those wonderful people out there (online and otherwise) who kept me company during these increasingly quiet winter nights. ;) Hey, you know who you are. Thanks. (And my lovely girlfriend, Karen! *blows kiss*)_

Mandie - *pout* Well I'm spoiled. So it's okay for me to be evil. You let me get away with everything anyhow. Mwuahaha… no, not really.

Jess - *mock gasp* What's wrong with jello? I happen to like jello! But I wouldn't mind a Faith graphic… *flutters lashes* I might forget how positively ancient you are.

VixenRaign - *laughs* Well… you'll see.

GrimSage - Thanks. It took me forever to kick this sequel off. Writer's block. What do you do when you can't write? I tried everything… even washing my hands for an extended period of time. Repeatedly. My only result was dry hands. Where's my lotion…?

Norwalker - Sorry about the long wait, I went snowboarding in Vermont. *grins* Next piece.

rain - I wouldn't say that Red's the one who hurts Faith, exactly…

lil badass - You need to get yourself some sleep, girl. Really. *laughs* And. _Doesn't_ Willow know where Faith lives? I didn't study Season 3 too closely. But let's just say, for clarity's sake, she could've always asked someone… but that's Willow's story. And Willow's story is a completely different story. *sticks out tongue* Live with it.

**_Note:_**_ Constructive criticism always welcome… as well as senseless praise. Hey, a writer does have _some_ needs…_

**Part II – "Red"**

Laughter from the television melts into the nothing.

I stare at the ceiling, trying to focus, counting the cracks, but I find myself counting the days instead. Days since I've seen your face, or heard your voice... since everything started to spin and blur. All too many to count, too faded to recall. 

The room is littered with used cigarettes and ash. Remnants of a hopeless effort to keep the numbers right.

That's how it started. A stick for each day gone by without you... then it became two. One to tally the days, another to remember you.

To remember how it felt to hold _fire_ in my hands.

And then one wasn't enough to remember you anymore, I needed more. _Always_ more. I can't remember which one is for the days... it's so many, too many. I'm so confused.

_Red_. Your little pure, loyal, clueless, redhead groupie. Not so pure, loyal, or clueless anymore.

I stained her, B.

I _stained_ her... and I can barely _remember_ it.

How did everything get so ugly?

Everything's so out of control. Everything passing like a nightmare-ish movie on fast-forward. Trying to grasp at moments passed uselessly, I hardly knew what happened.

It's all thrown and lost into smoky hazes, flashes of red hair, and heated freckled skin. To have the rush of being the one in control - the one _winning_.

To be like you.

To be, if not _with_ you, _like_ you. To be just a little closer. To soothe the ache just a little more. To know that _I_ know you better than _anyone_, if I can't have anything else - If you won't _let_ me have anything else.

Red came into my room the day after us, if there was ever an us, and I was still buck-naked. She confessed later, murmuring into my neck, that she had meant to ask me if I knew what had been bothering you. I think maybe nothing would've happened, if she had just walked out. But she didn't.

As she stood there, entranced, the something in me from the past kicked in... and everything from then on is too distorted to remember.

Maybe I don't _want_ to remember.

The secret, if that was what it was, didn't last long. A few days later (three? was it only three?) you found out that I was fucking your best friend... and the day you confronted me was the last day I saw you. The expression on your face... I smirked in triumph and my words were cold, but secretly, I crumbled.

We talked, with Red standing in the middle, the self-appointed referee, and I watched as you became increasingly agitated. Admit it, B, you were just jealous.

_I'm_ winning now.


	3. Dazed

_**Note:** Oh my god, you guys, I'm super sorry I haven't updated in... way too long. I'm so bad, you should whip me. (Oooh, kink. wiggles eyebrows) I'll try to be more action-y from now on. For all those that're still being patient with me (you're all crazy), a big, big thank you.  
__(FF killed my formatting! Grr!)  
__**  
Disclaimer:** I wish I owned BtVS... but alas..._

_**  
Dedicated to: **All of you out there who're still reading from my sorry self! Love y'all!_

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Part III – "Dazed"**

"You went out clubbing again..."

_Lights_. Flashing, multicolored, chaotic enough to mirror myself. My life, my thoughts, my feelings.

"You told me you'd stop."

_Music_. Deafening, hard, honest, real, screaming words that dig so far back into my past... Hurting so badly, I can't even find the words to describe... I don't want... don't _like_ to remember – but it just feels so good to hurt sometime.

"You don't even listen to me anymore."

_People_. Girls with long blonde hair, pastel clothes. Girls, whose eyes hold more secrets, more pain, so much more than they should. Girls who should be... you. Being held in my arms. But not.

"Why won't you let me in?"

You cared. You cared. You cared... You used to care. Do you still care? But I don't care. I'm winning. I don't care. Don't. Care. I have your best friend wrapped around my finger. You lose this one, bitch.

"Faith..."

She looks sad. So sad. Like you sometimes... but it's different. _I_ made her sad. _I _did. Making her sad would get to you, wouldn't it? Let her go back and cry about it to you. Let her. I don't care. I'm winning. _Winning_. Finally.

"Sometimes, I just..."

Cigarette between my fingers. Watching as I light a match. It all moves by itself. Like a movie. It's all a movie... And I wonder... would the fire burn if I touched it? Will my skin blister and peel? Would it hurt? Could it hurt more than... you?

Red looks at me. Tears brim her eyes.

Like my tears that night. Do you still remember them? When you made me cry like a fucking pussy. Sometimes I don't feel myself around you. You turn me into someone else.

"Buffy."

It takes a while to register what she says. But when it does... it feels like the world just stopped moving. And everything turns into ice. "What did you say?"

"It's about Buffy."

She _can't_ know this.

"It's always been about Buffy."

I flinch. "Shut up."

"I'm leaving." Red squares her shoulders, and she stands tall. It lasts a split second before the entire facade crumbles to nothing again. Her head turns to the side. I can't tell if she's just looking off into space or avoiding my eyes. "I don't know what brings me back, but I've stayed even when I should've gone. I'm turning into someone that's not me, and someone that's more like you."

B. Golden hair. Sunny smiles. Endless lengths of smooth, tanned skin... Deep hazel eyes. Tortured, pained, unhappy. Ashes fall on the sheets.

I can't stop thinking about you.

The door slams shut. Red left.

The lighted cigarette is lifted up to my lips, and a bitter warmth seeps in. It reminds me of us. And I don't care that Red is gone. And I don't know how, but maybe...

She loves me.

I'm still winning.

Aren't I?


End file.
